"She wonters where the young chief has gone," muttered Watty. "Hey, but what a fire to broil a bone!" A minute later the leg bone of the buck was spitting and sputtering on the glowing coals, and Watty smiled as he felt in his pockets and brought out a tobacco box, which, on being opened, proved to contain two pieces of rag, which he also opened, and displayed about a dessert-spoonful of salt and about half that quantity of black pepper. "She smells fine alreaty," said the lad; and he took a pinch of pepper as if it were snuff, and carefully sprinkled it over the grilling bone, following it up with a pinch of salt. Then the box, with its contents, was put away, and Watty dived into his pockets again, to bring out a couple of biscuits. "Twa biscuit," he said. "Hey, but she willna waste ta pread when she can have sae muckle gude meat!" He turned the bone over and waited a few minutes, which he spent in whetting the blade of his knife on a piece of smooth stone, and trying its edge again and again, and ending by giving it a stropping on his boot sole as if he meant to shave. "Done!" he cried suddenly; and whisking the browned and in some places blackened bone from the fire, he squatted down with his legs doubled under him like a Japanese, and began to skin off pieces of the tempting venison, and ate them deliberately, smiling with satisfaction the while. "I ken naebody could hae cookit deer meat efer so petter as tat," he said as he worked away, thoroughly enjoying his picnic meal till the last scrap was cleaned off, and then he cracked the bone with the back of his knife, and managed to get out a good deal of the marrow. "She's fine, though she is mickle," he said; and then he sighed and looked hard at the pieces of the deer set aside for the absent ones--a shabby, raggedly cut lot, though of course of delicious meat. Watty stretched his eyes away and had a look round. "They dinna come pack," he said, "and it's chust wasting a bonnie bit fire." There was a pause. "She'd petter pit on some mair coal," muttered Watty; and he picked up a weather-worn lump, but dropped it again. "It's chust spoiling a gude fire to put on mair coal," he said softly, with his face all wrinkles, "and a' tat meat waiting." He had another look round. "She's ferry hungry," he muttered; "and she'll chust hae ane wee pit. The captain said he couldna eat. She can." He made a dart at the biggest piece, laid it on the glowing coal, seasoned it as before, waited till it was done on one side, and then picked it up cleverly on the point of his knife and turned it, seasoned this side also, and replaced his box. "Peautiful, peautiful!" he murmured. "Hey, put she smells petter than floores!" He did not leave the meat to cook too long, but soon had it out and laid upon a nicely warmed, flat piece of slaty stone, which served him for a plate as he began to eat with the greatest of gusto.